All We Need Is Some Ice Cream And a Hug
June 8, 2005

Hmm, I've been shooting to update this blog every other day -- I've never been great at the old creative writing adage to write every day. I'm much more of a binge writer, and I guess that's starting to bleed over into this new enterprise despite my best intentions. Well, phooey.

That said, I'd much rather update when I actually have something to say instead of updating like a madman and giving myself mono.

Now, pull up a chair, Gentle Reader, and settle in by the soft, cool wash of your monitor and relax just a moment.

I loved looking at old board games as a kid. I liked comparing the brand new Sorry box to my mom's old Park N Shop box. They were the same size and shape -- the boards were still the same size and shape despite the 20 or so years in between their printings. Very little had (at that time) changed in how we played board games.

I even had some of dad's old "bookshelf games" (these eventually became D&D style games). He had one about making money and a second about spies. I never played dad's games -- they looked far too complicated to my eight-year-old's eyes. I mean, you had to read a whole fifty page badly mimeographed booklet just to be able to play the basic game! And even if I could get through all of the intricate details, I'd never be able to explain it to my little sister who was only four at the time. I mean, there's wasn't even a board to this game!

But he had other games, too. He had the coolest Parcheesi set I've ever seen. It was so cool. The box was made to look at bit like it was fabric instead of just cardboard. It had some fancy gold flocking that, while still there and looking nice enough, was a bit faded and a bit worn, but still held its texture. Lifting the lid, you just knew that this game was something special. First, there was this smell that wafted out of the box. A smell of age, mystery and, I suppose, of old cardboard, too. It was most like the smell of a really old, but not musty book and it carried the same sense of awe to me every time I opened the box.

After I opened up the box, I pulled out the game board which was the same faded gold textured cardboard as the box. Just a single word, Parcheesi written in gold leaf, decorated the board, dead centered. And, just below the board was another clue to just how special this game was: the white quilted paper cushion gently laid atop the game pieces. Even after opening up the box and removing the board, you still couldn't see the game, really. It almost looked like a box of really special chocolates with that white quilted paper resting there.

After lifting the paper, you could see each individual piece for the game -- not jumbled together in some little cardboard box, but each piece had its own place die-cut into the cardboard. The pawns for the game were all wood -- not plastic like the Sorry pawns. It even came with a little "cup" to put the dice in when rolling. Of course, it was the same green-gold textured cardboard. It all matched and just pulling the game out was a magical time for me.

Yeah, I know. I really was that much of a geek. Didn't really care about the game itself, but oh, the magic of pulling it all out and getting it set up. And just thinking about how old it was (in my eight-year-old's mind the game was at least fifty years old) just gave me the shivers.

It was one of my favorite board games even though I didn't really like playing Parcheesi and I didn't take it out to play very often. I wanted to keep that old game forever. I could see me pulling it out of the cabinet and setting up the game on the kitchen table, playing with my kids and just hoping that it had as much magic for them as it did for me.

I haven't gone looking on eBay to replace the one my mom sold over my strenuous protests. I'm never sure that I'll really find one with that same level of magic to it. And I still haven't gotten to a spot where I can adopt my children like I've always wanted to do. But chances are, when I do finally bring my children home, we'll find something else that has that magic in it. It's probably some old thing I already have lying around the house and have almost taken to the church rummage sale a thousand times.

Wish I knew what it was.
Wish I knew when I can finally adopt. Are my kids even born yet? If they are, what's happening in their lives right now? I hope they're happy right now. If something happens that means they'll be up for adoption in the next couple of years, that means something unhappy is going to happen. I wish i could stop that pain before it ever happens. I'll have to content myself with trying to help them work through it and helping them learn to be happy again . . . .

Wow. This went places I never imagined it would go. Writing's like that sometimes.

Peace.

Posted by Red Monkey at June 8, 2005 3:32 PM | Storytelling: She was, of course, supposed to be sleeping. | | StumbleUpon Toolbar Stumble |

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